The Secret Life of My Husband, The Professor ✔️

37| Seeing Him

{Four Years Later} 

Wahaj's POV

I see him long before he sees me.

He's standing in the middle of the large lecture room filled with students. In the same mien, I left him four years ago. There were a couple of Teacher assistants, professors gathered around him, and Eman, of course - His fiancée Arm in arm, she seemed to be leaving her mark just like wolves do so no one would come close to her territory. Even from here, I can see her long, red-manicured nails scratching into his blazer, the way her valuable tips score into his tender ribs. Though he doesn't react outwardly, I remember how discreet he liked to be.

Medicine and the promise of higher upcoming hierarchy, he must be in his own personal heaven.

The Professor seems to be listing intently to whatever the New Dean, Rosie Chamberlain, was saying that he didn't notice my arrival. Therefore, I walked swiftly toward the computer in front of the whole auditorium, I stayed beside it, letting my eyes do all the talking from a distance as I blink rapidly to dispel the image. A trip down memory lane is not why I'm here.

"There's the Dean," Alexander whispers into my ear, "and a couple of professors. The young one is Professor Yilmaz."

I nod as if I hadn't been able to figure that out on my own – even if I broke everything between us a few years ago. Everyone knows who Professor Yilmaz is. He's as much celebrity as he is a professor at this point.

My eyes remain on Ibrahim for a few seconds longer during this short reprieve before I rock his world to its core. I use the calm before the storm to compare this older version of him to the one that I once knew.

He's let his hair grow longer; the brown-ish mane explodes in various unruly directions. His green eyes are as hypnotizing as ever; even from here, they stand out like two glowing emeralds. He rests his weight casually over one hip; his tall frame still lean, exuding power and confidence. His self-assurance hasn't diminished one iota. I can tell by that cocky grin of his that he seems to have only grown cockier. He still has that rich, deep laugh that automatically raises the spirits of everyone within hearing range. Unfortunately, he was handsome as ever - more so if I must be honest. Thirty-two suits him brilliantly.

I've arrived prepared for him, though. "Come on, let us introduce ourself," Alexander grins my way. I grin back, my eyes still on Ibrahim. "I will stand here. You go."

He chuckles and leaning close to my ear, whispers, "Don't be shy,"

Alexander never got me right. He was so different than me. He didn't know that what I was feeling at that second wasn't shyness, but power, I aspired to practice as well as the Devil once did.

All of a sudden, Ibrahim stops talking, mid-sentence it appears. He straightens out over his long legs. His shoulders stiffen. Emerald eyes roam around the auditorium slowly, as if he senses something askew in his perfect world. As they near me, I tilt my form toward the computer as I prepare the slides to view, shielding me from his view. My heart starts racing in a way it only ever has around him, but I ignore it and remind myself of why I'm here.